


soldiers with heavy hearts

by growlery writes (growlery)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, F/F, WIP Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 07:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19313437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: The Clave, Lydia knows, is wrong about a lot of things. The law is the law, but this unwritten rule is wrong, she knows it in her head and in her heart, so what is there left to stop her?





	soldiers with heavy hearts

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely old and will never be more than it is, but i just rediscovered it and like what it started out as, so. title from comets by charlie simpson

It isn't difficult for Lydia to slip away from her aborted wedding. Everyone is far more interested in the groom than the bride, and Lydia doesn't have it in her to resent Alec, to be anything but immeasurably happy for him getting to have his happy ending and live his truth, but she also needs to not be here right now. 

The halls of the Institute are empty, and she thinks that she'll be able to make it back to her room without any fuss, but then there's a hand on Lydia's arm, and Isabelle Lightwood's voice far too close to her ear saying, “Lydia, wait.”

Lydia stops. She turns, slowly, in Isabelle's grip, and then steps neatly out of it. She won't be caught. “Yes?”

Isabelle holds her gaze for a second. “Thank you,” she says. “What you did for my brother was-”

“What any decent person should have done,” Lydia says, with a polite, brittle smile. She needs to not be here right now. She needs to retreat somewhere she can let her quiet envy simmer until it's gone. “I didn't do anything hard. That was all Alec.”

Isabelle nods, and Lydia thinks that'll be it, it should be it, what more can Alec Lightwood's sister possibly have to say to her? 

Except even as she thinks it she knows it's not true. She's a Shadowhunter, one of the best. She's nothing if not observant, hyper-vigilant; she's seen the way Isabelle looks at her, and she knows Isabelle's noticed her looking back. It's not anything Lydia would act on, because of the Clave and her rushed but undeniably sensible engagement and the Clave, but she's not getting married any more. 

The Clave, Lydia knows, is wrong about a lot of things. The law is the law, but this unwritten rule is wrong, she knows it in her head and in her heart, so what is there left to stop her?

“Not here,” Lydia says, before Isabelle can say whatever else she was planning to. For a moment, Isabelle doesn't move and Lydia is certain she's read the situation all wrong, but then Isabelle blinks, and then Isabelle smiles, and Lydia has to turn away from the uncomplicated softness of it. 

Lydia strides to her room, unconsciously slipping into her leadership stance, but Isabelle's not much of a follower, walks at Lydia's side and lets their fingers brush where their hands hang down. It's probably just the tension in her body, built up til she's brittle all over, but the light touch makes her itch all over. 

She shuts the door behind them, and when she turns, Isabelle kisses her. It's soft and sweet and nothing Lydia wants, and she thinks her soft noise of frustration escapes between them, because Isabelle huffs a laugh, bites down on Lydia's lower lip. 

It's like a pinprick to a balloon. All the tension drains out of Lydia's body, only to rush back in again, electrified, and Lydia gives a quiet sigh. She lets Isabelle back her up against the wall, splay fingers over her bare shoulder, and tips her neck back when Isabelle presses down into the skin. Isabelle ducks her head, taking the invitation, and the new tension pulls taut as Isabelle kisses Lydia's neck. 

"Is this okay?" Isabelle asks, pulling back. Lydia doesn’t trust herself to speak right now; she just nods. Isabelle frowns. 

“Have you done this before?” She asks, and Lydia squeezes her eyes shut. She knows what Isabelle means. 

“Once,” she says. “A long time ago.”

Isabelle didn't ask, so Lydia doesn't tell her that the girl had been her friend, that Lydia had loved her, that she had known even before it started that it had to end. Lydia doesn't tell Isabelle that she still thinks about her, sometimes, like she still thinks about John, like she still thinks about the man her parents tried to get her to marry instead. 

Isabelle nods, and Isabelle holds out her hand, and Isabelle smiles when Lydia takes it.


End file.
